


flashing those eyes like highway signs

by atlantisairlock



Series: quiet nights poured over ice & tanqueray: shoot x halsey [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things Root hates:<br/>- her stupid boss at the coffeeshop.<br/>- timetable screwups.<br/>- the graveyard shift.</p><p>Things Root does not hate:<br/>- Shaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flashing those eyes like highway signs

If she wants to be kind - and Root does not - she'd say her job at a twenty-four coffee shop is challenging, and keeps her on her toes. 

If she wants to be brutal... it is an absolute misery. She's fully aware that having a monster boss is cliche, but  _seriously,_ some days she has to wonder if he was personally sent by Lucifer to wreak hell on earth or something. It's not as if she has any half-decent colleagues to make the job a little more bearable. And the pool of customers that come in during lunch shift is split evenly between the middle-aged stuffy white-collar Harvard-Yale-Oxbridge graduates working at the MNC just round the corner, and the younger but  _equally_ stuffy rich kids attending the prestigious college a block over. Sometimes her classmates visit and chat briefly just to make her life easier, but then her boss gives them the stink eye and they find themselves having to get their asses out of there before he comes after them with a broom. It's not as if most of the kids from Northern High would be able to afford purchasing anything off the menu with the frequency of the rest of the regulars - if they could, Root probably wouldn't be on  _this_ side of the counter. She snorts as she mixes up another complicated frap order for 'Padbery' - who names their child  _Padbery? -_  and wonders, not for the first time, what the hell she's doing here at all.

 _One more year_ , Root promises herself. One more year and she'll get her ass to MIT on scholarship. She can, and she has to. She refuses to be stuck in this hellhole any longer. She's destined for bigger things. And damn if she's not going to get there. Just one more year. It can't get any worse than this.

 

 

Of course she's wrong. It can. 

Root walks out of Northern's main office fuming and tempted to toss a brick through a window. Because  _somebody_ messed up in the timetabling department and apparently it's too late to fix it, she's got a couple of afternoon classes that clash with her lunch shifts on the job. How the hell is she supposed to work this out? What other shift can she possibly be put on that won't screw up her entire life as she knows it? 

The answer, apparently, is 'the graveyard shift'. 

"You can't put me on the graveyard shift, sir," Root says desperately, wringing her hands. "I have school in the morning. I have 9AM classes! If I clock off at three, how am I supposed to stay awake?"

Sam shrugs nonchalantly, going through the books. "It's not my problem, little miss. Take the shift, or lose your job. It's all I can offer you. After all, you live opposite in boarding. Surely it can't be that much of an issue." He smiles with too much teeth. "And I'll even pay you a small sympathy bonus. How does a monthly fifty sound?"

Root _really_ wants to punch him. 

 

 

Root manages to squeeze in a good nap between classes and after her last block the afternoon before her first graveyard shift, ruefully realising that she's probably going to have to reset her body clock entirely. Her new hours are twelve to four; apparently, people actually  _come_ for coffee at these ridiculous hours. It's mostly the college students, staying up late to do research papers and finish their assignments. The traffic is, reasonably, much slower.

Even before the first shift is up, Root puts away her pride and indignation and decides she loves it, fucked up schedule be damned. She has time to complete her homework in between orders, which come every fifteen minutes or so. Most orders are takeaway, and the customers who stay to burn the midnight oil are quiet and non-disruptive. It's absolutely incredible. 

And then Shaw walks in. 

Root's busy sampling one of the unsold croissants from the case when Northern's best auto shop instructor - not to mention most attractive member of staff - walks in. She proceeds to choke unglamorously on the pastry, nearly falling off her stool in her haste to get to the counter. A couple of students hunched over their assignments by the window seats look up at her with expressions betraying their annoyance when her stool topples onto the floor, but Root ignores them in favour of smoothing out her apron and doing her best to look professional. Judging by the merriment in Shaw's face, it's not working.

"Hello, Root," Shaw says, and that sends a shiver down Root's spine - she's always respected how Shaw's the only teacher in the school who agreed to address her by her preferred nickname, and she  _loves_ the way it sounds when Shaw says it. "I didn't know you were working here at this hour. I haven't seen you doing this shift before."

"Evening, ma'am," Root gives Shaw a winning smile. "I just switched over today. Scheduling messed up and my afternoon classes clashed with my lunch shift, so I'm here. Guess I'm going to have to become nocturnal."

Shaw actually laughs, and Root's delightfully surprised. "Thank goodness you have auto shop in the morning, huh? Trust me, living by night isn't too bad. Especially when you can come over every night to get a good coffee. Can I get a long black and a bagel?"

Root frowns. "The baked goods won't be fresh by now, ma'am." 

There's a flash of something in Shaw's eyes - respect, perhaps, or amusement. "Don't worry about it, Root. From experience, they're still good." 

"Sure, if you don't mind, then." Root puts the bagel into the oven to toast, and turns her attention to the coffee. From out of the corner of her eye, she sees Shaw settle down by the counter, watching her, and that makes her feel warm all over. It's not that she's got a crush on her auto instructor or anything, _really_ , but... well, you'd have to be blind not to notice how attractive Shaw is, Root thinks. It's pleasant to have her attention, if only for this brief moment in the twilight hours. 

Root serves the coffee and the bagel on a plate, and puts the money in the cash register. Shaw doesn't break eye contact, and when Root closes the register once more, she speaks. "Are you busy?"

Unable to help herself, Root gestures ironically at the cafe, with only six seats filled. Shaw laughs, again - it's an amiable sound, and Root enjoys it. "Draw up that stool and chat with me. It's not often that I get company this late at night." 

"Sure," Root replies, fervently hoping that the dim light by the counter is hiding her blush. She grabs the stool, sets it up close to where Shaw is sitting and settles down with her arms on the countertop. Shaw nods, looks at her with real interest in her eyes. "So, you stay in boarding."

"Yeah."

"No wonder you can afford to do the graveyard shift. Are you enjoying it so far?"

"Well, it's just my first day," Root smirks. "But I have to say, it's a lot better than the lunch shift. It's so quiet! And there's free Wi-Fi. I might bring my laptop here next time and work on some code." She cocks her head slightly, studying Shaw's face. "How about you, ma'am? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

"I live in boarding, too." Shaw meets Root's surprised expression with a grin. "Didn't know that teachers can do that, did you? It's a convenient arrangement. As to why I live a nocturnal lifestyle..." Shaw shrugs, sipping her coffee. "The world is calmer at night."

"You like calm, and you teach in a high school? Sounds pretty oxymoronic to me," Root quips.

"You're right. Every day I wonder why I didn't become a mechanic instead," Shaw answers, and winks, and holy  _shit,_ Root swears that's the hottest thing she's seen all week. She smiles and straightens up deliberately, keeping her eyes on Shaw's face and  _only_ her face. "You'd _really_  want to spend your days in a hot, greasy garage fixing the chassis of a Lamborghini instead of putting your feet up on your desk in the staffroom?" 

Shaw takes a bite of her bagel, snorting. "You have a  _very_ idealised concept of what we teachers do all day, don't you?"

Root laughs, for real. It's a really good feeling. 

Maybe the graveyard shift will be something she can _really_  look forward to.

 

 

Shaw ends up staying till the end of Root's shift, even after she's drained her cup and cleaned her plate. Root thinks she hasn't felt at ease talking to someone in this long; funny how it's her auto shop instructor who's ten years older than her. They chat about nothing as they walk back to boarding, and Shaw even walks her up to her room to make sure she gets there safe. 

"Thanks for accompanying me back, ma'am," Root says politely, and Shaw smiles. "I'll see you in shop later. And Root?" Root stops as she's unlocking her door, stepping past the threshold. "Just call me Shaw." 

Root watches Shaw head up the stairs to her own room, watches until Shaw disappears, out of sight. She spends the rest of the morning coding until she has to head for her first class. 

The warmth from the night before lingers.

 

 

The second night, Shaw's her first customer. This time, she's got an intimidating stack of paperwork in her hands and a rueful expression on her face. Root watches, amused, as her teacher places the pile on the countertop, rolling her eyes. "You'd think someone who teaches  _auto shop_ wouldn't have to deal with all this ridiculous red tape, but apparently I've got to update all my relevant particulars  _in hardcopy_ and scan it into the database once I'm done for any relevant changes to be reflected. We need a better computer system in this school."

Root thinks she could actually do something about that, but keeps her thoughts to herself in favour of making a sympathetic noise. "It can't be that bad, can it? It's just filling in information."

Shaw snorts. "It's thirty pages, and they lost my previous file, so I have to do it from scratch. I should be working on the new auto shop syllabus."

Root's interest is piqued; although auto isn't directly relevant to her dream career, it's still way more interesting than AP Bio. "New auto syllabus! What does that entail?" 

There's some hesitation, and Shaw puts down her pen. "I have to tighten it. There's a steady decreasing trend in students who take shop, and the school's budget is already spread thin - there aren't enough students to justify the money we're currently spending. I'm going to have to cut a lot of things." She makes a frustrated sound, and Root frowns. It's true her class is pretty small, with just ten people, but the thought of cutting the syllabus is upsetting. Especially when Shaw looks so disappointed. "Isn't there anything you can do about it?"

"Root, have you  _seen_ the American education system?" Shaw shakes her head. "Forget it, I'll just drink my worries away. Same as yesterday."

Root accedes, hopping off her stool and heading over to brew the coffee. When she passes Shaw's order over to her, their fingertips brush fleetingly; Root snatches her hand back like she's been burned and hastily retreats, hoping Shaw hasn't noticed.  _What the hell is wrong with you?_ Root berates herself, accepting the money Shaw pushes over and cashing the order.  _Keep things professional! She's your teacher!_

Shaw doesn't notice Root's inner turmoil, just gestures to her stool. "Do me a favour and keep me from dying of boredom while I go through this heap of documents?"

That's an offer Root is more than happy to accept.

 

 

And so Shaw becomes a staple of her job. Senior year is tough, and her teachers are throwing an assignment at her every two days or so, but Root knows she  _has_ to do well this year if she stands any chance of going to MIT. It's not exactly  _easy_ balancing her academics and her job, but she manages - she works in a  _coffee shop,_ for god's sake; the  _smell_ of the place alone could keep her going for the entire night. Chatting to Shaw while working on her homework becomes a habit - a good one. Root genuinely enjoys her company, and if the quick smiles Shaw sends her way when they pass each other in the corridors are anything to go by, Shaw does, too. 

One month into her final year in high school, Root realises she is happy. 

 

 

There's a 3 AM hour when Root and Shaw are debating the pros and cons of a Lamborghini Gallardo, and John Reese walks in. Of all the students she takes Calc with, he has to be the most bearable. It's weird to see him out this late; frankly, it's strange to see him out of school at all, but Root shoots Shaw an apologetic glance and gets up to take his order. "Hey, Reese. What'll it be?"

"Just get me a double espresso; thanks, Root. I didn't know you were working out here this late. Isn't it tough?" 

"Well, it's not too bad. Quiet. Calm. The pay's decent. I don't have to deal with my boss breathing over my shoulder at this hour. It works out."

"And... you've got Ms Shaw as a conversationalist?" Reese lifts his eyebrows, tilting his head just the slightest to direct his attention at Shaw, who's going through auto theory assignments the class just turned in. Root blushes faintly, feeling defensive. "She's interesting to talk to."

"I can imagine." He comments matter-of-factly, with no judgment, and for that Root's grateful. "Must be nice. She seems so."

 _She is,_ Root wants to reply, passing Reese's coffee over and accepting his bills. "Have a good night, Reese."

"Will do. I'll head back to boarding now. Wouldn't want to interrupt your... chat."

Root rolls her eyes at his suggestive tone, and eases herself back onto the stool. Shaw appears faintly bemused; Root can't blame her. "Your friend?"

"Yeah, he is."

"Seems nice," Shaw answers, tone light, but there's an edge of wariness and something else in there, too. Root suddenly feels uncomfortable, and squirms in her seat. "He's  _just_ a friend," she clarifies. "Nothing else."

Shaw murmurs understanding, but it's not lost on Root how the tension in her shoulders doesn't ease. Root wonders what she's so worried about. She's pretty sure Reese doesn't have the funds to come here on the regular and disrupt the conversations they so enjoy. Is Shaw  _jealous?_

Huh. The idea is almost... attractive. Root lets herself daydream for a moment before she realises Shaw's talking to her, and shakes herself out of it.  _Don't overthink things!_ She concentrates on Shaw, right in front of her, instead of what she wants to imagine. It could  _never_ happen, she reminds herself. She can't afford to develop any feelings, beyond friendship. And she won't.

 

 

The problem is, she does. 

Shaw keeps coming in at night, doing her paperwork on the countertop while drinking her coffee, making small talk with Root all the while. She's genuinely interested in what Root has to say, in her past, in her worries, in her hopes and dreams for the future. She gives Root that small smile she reserves only for her when she's greeting the class of auto shop students every morning. She is  _beautiful,_ and Root's known that about her the entire four years she's been in high school, but before this, she was just _Ms Shaw_. Another member of staff, frequently talked about at the lockers but just a teacher, nevertheless. The graveyard shift has changed everything. 

Root knows she's getting ahead of herself. She and Shaw hold conversations, sure, and they tend to be pretty deep in every sense of the word - it comes with the territory, it being two in the morning and all. But she's still her  _teacher,_ and roughly ten years older than her, and Root's leaving the state come the end of this school year, if all goes to plan. There is no way this could ever work out well. It's just a crush, she tells herself. An inevitable result of their chemistry, their closeness, and how lonely it would be otherwise, at night. 

It's just a crush. That's all it can be.

 

 

Hanna Frey is Root's best friend.  They've known each other since they were kids, stayed in touch when Hanna moved away in middle school, met up again when they both ended up in Northern. They don't take many classes together, and Hanna doesn't stay in boarding, but they meet up when their schedules coincide and Root usually spends a couple days of winter break with Hanna and her family, two blocks down from school. They're always there for each other, no matter what. 

Hanna is also really active on the gossip mill. This probably accounts for why she ends up accosting Root in her dorm room at six in the evening, three months after the school year starts, when she's filling up on mac and cheese while rushing an economics essay due the next morning. She seats herself on Root's beanbag chair like she owns it, and shoots rubber bands at Root's chair until she finally stops ignoring her. "What?!" 

"I know you're busy with that econ essay, but you are Mr Grey's favourite and he'll probably relent and give you a day extra to complete it if you give him the puppy eyes. Look, you need to tell me what's going on with you and Ms Shaw! Half the school is whispering about it by their lockers during lunch hour. Do you two have something going?"

Root rolls her eyes and sighs as loudly as possible, pointedly turning back to her laptop. "There is  _nothing_ 'going on', or at least not in the sense you're implying. We just have coffee together at night. Because she's there. To mark assignments. And other things. We're friend...ly." 

"Sure," Hanna replies patronisingly, a smirk on her face and one eyebrow raised. "Not even  _friends,_ huh? Come  _on,_ Root, I've known you, what, ten years, maybe more? You can't hide this stuff from me. You like her, don't you?"

"She's pleasant. Shut up." Root refuses to rise to the jibe. She will not. It is  _not_ like that. Though she wouldn't mind. But it's  _not._

Hanna stops tapping her feet, and her teasing humming suddenly pauses. Root knows when her best friend is serious, now, and turns on her swivel chair to face her. "Look, it's  _not_ like that.  _Really._ I...  _like_ her. But it's not... there's nothing between us. We're friendly. But she's still my teacher." 

There's silence in the dorm room as Hanna gives Root a long look, a searching one. When she speaks again, her tone is softer, and solemn. "You love her."

Root exhales, thinking of the way Shaw laughs, the way her gaze seems to linger when Root cracks one of her jokes in the coffee shop. "I could." She admits quietly, but carries on before Hanna can interrupt. "But I won't. I can't let myself care about - care  _for_ her, Han. It's not a good idea. It wouldn't end well."

There's respect in Hanna's understanding nod. "You do your econ essay and get some rest before your shift. I'll see myself out." 

"Thanks, Han. I appreciate you talking to me about this, either way."

Hanna shoots her a knowing glance as she leaves, but Root turns back to her essay and mac and cheese, and focuses. She can't afford to care. Not like this. She meant every word she said. She'll stick to it. And stick to it she does. She buries her feelings, represses them as far back into her heart as she can, and keeps everything light and breezy. It's all she wants. It makes her happy, and that's all Root is asking for. Life is good, like this. She doesn't want that to change.

 

 

Winter break comes about in late February, and Root ends up having to stay in boarding all week, since Hanna's parents are taking her out of town for a well-deserved week-long holiday. Root makes her promise to buy souvenirs, and finds herself wandering a conspicuously empty, quiet apartment. A lot of students go home over break, to visit their parents - which isn't a viable option for Root. She counts herself lucky she's even getting her school fees paid. She just wants to get a scholarship, and pay the rest of her way through college, alone. The sooner she breaks away from home, the better. 

Surprisingly, Shaw doesn't leave, either - she's open enough with Root, but very, very secretive about her childhood; she doesn't know anything about Shaw's family, and it seems like Shaw doesn't want to see them, either - Root raises her eyebrows questioningly when she saunters in the first night of break with her laptop bag in hand. "Didn't go home?"

"Nowhere to go to," Shaw answers shortly, in a tone that warns she's not going to talk about it. Root respects that, backs off, and places her usual coffee and bagel on the counter. Shaw nods gratefully and opens her laptop, eyes meeting Root's over the top of the screen. "I notice you didn't, either."

Root shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "Family issues. It's better if I stay here." She washes dishes in the sink, listening to the harsh clinking noises, and nearly jumps out of her skin when Shaw lets out a loud hiss and near-yell from behind her. Root spins around to see her cup on its side, coffee dripping down the metal counter, most of it beginning to stain the laptop bag that Shaw's got on her lap. "Oh, shit. Shit, thank goodness it didn't get on the keyboard. I'm so sorry, Root." She gestures apologetically at the spill of brown liquid on the floor. "Let me just get this washed up in the bathroom."

"Don't worry about it," Root assures her, grabbing a mop and heading over to the tap to fill a bucket. "Bathroom's at the back, second door to the right." She watches Shaw dump some files and papers out of the bag onto the counter and hurry away. Shaking her head, Root smiles apologetically at the few customers sitting at their tables and proceeds to clean up the mess. It's not a big spill, so she's done soon enough, and as she's heading back behind the counter she idly glances over at documents strewn over the surface of the counter, a messy pile of papers, and offhandedly straightens them out a little.

One envelope catches her eye, though, and as she puts it face down on the top of the pile and reads what's printed on the top, she goes cold.

**_TWO WEEKS' NOTICE_ **

What?

She knows what the school policy is. For a member of staff to resign, they have to give at least two weeks' notice before leaving and signing any new contracts for job offers. 

Shaw is resigning? 

Root has to sit down, knees suddenly going weak. She's spent half a year insisting to herself that Shaw doesn't mean anything more to her than most people in her life, but the thought of her just  _leaving_ like that... Root tries to imagine a graveyard shift without Shaw's familiar chuckle, her voice, tries to imagine crossing the road back to boarding without Shaw's comforting presence at her side, tries to imagine auto shop without her. Tries to imagine her life without Shaw, in essence.

She barely notices when Shaw returns, beginning to repack her files into her clean, albeit slightly damp laptop bag. It takes Shaw calling her name for the third time before she responds, finally hearing her. "Sorry, I was, um... I was thinking. Did you say something?"

"I said I was sorry about the coffee. I was distracted. Stupid of me." 

 _Distracted by what? The idea of resigning?_ Root wonders, feeling something squeeze hard beneath her ribs. Outwardly, she just puts on a weak smile. "No trouble. You want another cup of coffee?"

"Sure. I'll pay the extra."

Root's never been so thankful to have an excuse to turn to the machine, to turn away from Shaw. She can't look at her, not right now. A part of her almost feels betrayed - Shaw never even talked to her about this. It's stupid to feel angry, she  _knows,_ but she'd thought... she'd been so assured that Shaw would have confided in her about something as major as this. 

Tears threaten to spring to Root's eyes; she sniffles and wipes them away with her sleeve as quickly as possible. She refuses to cry. Not over something as stupid as this. She's sure there's a rational explanation. 

 _Like what?_ The dark side of her mind taunts her, and Root sets her jaw, ignoring it. She places the fresh cup of coffee by Shaw's plate without a word, and moves a step away.

"Root. Are you all right?" Root looks up at Shaw, at the concern in her countenance, those dark eyes that Root thinks could see through her. She swallows, hard, and lies to Shaw for the first time. "I'm fine." 

The rest of the shift passes mostly in silence. Root doesn't want to admit it, but it hurts. 

 

 

Every step to boarding adds more weight on Root's shoulders, and it becomes harder and harder to breathe the closer they get to Root's dorm. Shaw watches wordlessly as Root tries to unlock the door with shaking hands, and when the key doesn't go in on the third try, Shaw steps in and places her hands on Root's. "Let me," she states quietly, taking the key and putting it into the lock. It turns smoothly, and Shaw pushes the door open for her. "There you go. Good night."

Everything inside Root screams for her not to let her get away without saying anything, and before she can think things through, she acts. "Wait," Root blurts out, and Shaw stops. "Shaw. I... I need to... please."

It sounds  _pathetic._ Shaw's brows furrow as she turns on her heel, steps in front of Root to face her, both hands in her jeans pockets. "Root, is something wrong?" She's a little hesitant as she continues, even softer. "You were... quiet. Tonight, at the coffee shop. I was worried."

Root squeezes her eyes shut, the tears stinging and a pebble settling hard in her throat. "Are you leaving?"

Shaw freezes. "You saw the envelope." It's a statement, not a question, and it sounds calm. Unruffled. Root nearly bursts into tears then and there, but she's stronger than that, just bites her lip and composes herself before continuing. "I'm sorry. I was trying to help sort out your files, a little. But then I... and I just..." 

 _Don't leave,_ Root thinks.  _Not yet. Not now. Not like this. I love you. I love you. Please. Don't leave. Don't leave me._

"Root, listen..." Shaw sighs, a long, low sound. "It's not... nothing's set in stone, all right? I wrote that because I  _might_ leave. Maybe at the end of this year." She lays one gentle hand on Root's shoulder. "But at this point in time, in this second, I'm not sure yet. I'm  _considering,_ okay? It's not like I'm going to head to the office today and put it on the principal's desk. But it's going to happen, sooner or later. Auto shop doesn't have a future in high schools, Root. I'm just considering if I should stick it out, or if I should just speed up the inevitable - "

 _"Don't!"_ Root interjects, too loud for the hour of the day. She's shaking, and it's not just because of the cold. She tugs her jacket around her a little tighter, looking at her feet and trying to stop herself from trembling. "Please... Shaw, don't leave. Not like this. Not yet."

Shaw is silent, looking down at her as Root begins to cry, properly this time. It's a moment before she moves her hand to tilt Root's chin up, looking her in the eye. "Please don't cry," she whispers, sounding on the very verge of broken. "I can't see you like this."

Something snaps inside Root, and she balls her hands into fists by her sides. "I love you," she says, too loud, too soft, too harsh, too wrong, but then Shaw's eyes soften and she leans down to kiss her, and everything shatters. 

 

 

They end up inside Root's dorm a minute or two later. Shaw places a blanket around Root's shoulders and brews a cup of chamomile from Root's tiny stash in the pantry. Root's got her face in her hands and doesn't look up until Shaw places a steaming mug of tea on the bedside table. "You should drink up. It's a cold night."

"You kissed me," Root says in reply, unable to shake that off. 

Shaw faces her, placid as ever. "I did."

Root's breath comes in short, uneven gasps, and Shaw reaches over to take her wrist, rub her thumb in small circles around her pulse point. It's surprisingly soothing. "You meant what you said, didn't you?"

Root nods, feeling very small, and very young. Shaw laughs, but it's not a mean sound, and she brings Root's hands to her lips, brushing light kisses against her knuckles. "Then you know that I love you, too, don't you."

It's so hushed that Root would think she imagined it, if not for the earnest openness on Shaw's face. Something is alight in her, something real and bright and hot, and everything is shifting, changing beneath her feet.  _I love you,_ she wants to say, again and again and again, a hundred times, because she doesn't think it'll ever be enough, and she doesn't think she'll ever be tired of hearing Shaw say it, too.

"This is real. This is something." She has to ask. She has to ask because this feels so  _surreal,_ like she's in a dream, even though she can see and hear and feel, and Shaw nods. "This is real."

Tea be damned, Root grabs Shaw's collar and pulls her close, bruises her lips once more with a kiss that isn't as brief and chaste as their first. Shaw tastes like espresso, and snow, and iron. Sharp. Warm. Right. Her fingers are already blindly working the buttons on Shaw's front when Shaw places her hands around hers, stops her, gentle but firm. "Not tonight."

Disappointment drops like a stone in Root's stomach, and it must show on her face. Shaw chuckles, pushing Root's hands back down to her lap. "I want this slow," she tells her. "I want to do this like you deserve."

Root studies her, sees sincerity in every inch of Shaw's body, and realizes she concurs. She ducks her head, a blush appearing on her face. "Yeah."

Shaw touches her lips to Root's forehead. "I'll stay with you here tonight, though, if you want."

"Yes, please," Root agrees immediately. "I don't want to be alone. Not after..."

"All right," Shaw smiles. "I'll stay." 

 

 

They keep everything quiet, out of necessity. Hanna is the only one Root tells the day she returns from her holiday. She laughs for two minutes straight and then proceeds to mercilessly make fun of Root about that chat they had in her dorm when Root denied anything going on between them, and when she's finally done laughing herself sick she hugs Root tight and congratulates her, because Hanna is the best friend she could ask for. 

"Obviously, as it goes without saying, I would die before I tell anyone," Hanna says, helping herself to a pack of chips from Root's pantry. "Don't worry about me, on this end. You just go do what you need to do."

"You're the best, Hanna," Root throws her arms around her in a hug, and Hanna grins. "I know."

 

 

The rest of senior year passes in a blur. Finals are a week of hell that Root purges from her memory as soon as she's done with her last paper. She, Hanna and a couple of their classmates go to prom together as a group, dance, and reminiscence all night; they sneak out halfway through and run around the school in socks for the very last time. Northern isn't the best school in the state, Root thinks, but it has given her four pretty damn good years, good friends, and Shaw. Shaw, who is there at graduation. Of course. Root dons a cap and robe and listens to Reese give his valedictorian speech. After the pomp and ceremony is over, they toss their caps in the air. Root catches her own and runs to Shaw in the crowd, letting her girlfriend scoop her into her hug and kiss her, in the middle of the chaos. 

"Congratulations," Shaw murmurs, and Root laughs, loud and long, because everything is different now, but everything is good. 

 

 

Alumni are allowed to stay in Northern's dorms at a slightly higher rate for a short period of time before college begins, right out of senior year, which means that most everything carries on as per normal while Root focuses on looking for suitable accommodation once she moves out of state. She'll miss Northern, she realizes, she'll miss everything about New York. But MIT is a whole new world, and she's excited for everything she's going to be privy to now she's going to be in college, for real. 

She'll miss Shaw, in particular. But she knows they'll work something out. They will. She loves Shaw; she loves her enough that she'll try the long-distance thing. She wants this. She'll work it out.

Two weeks before Root is due to fly off, she still hasn't found an apartment, which is... problematic, but she'll work something out on that end, too. She's debating whether she ought to just give some stuff to Hanna, who's studying in-state at Pace, or she should go to the trouble of shipping some of it over to MIT with her - and that's about when Shaw lets herself in with a huge grin on her face. "Stop worrying about your apartment. You've got a place in Massachusetts."

Root blinks, looking up at her girlfriend. "What?"

Shaw takes a seat on her bed by her side. "I've got a friend who owns a room or two in an apartment five minutes from MIT. You and I are going to be staying there while you study."

Root's jaw drops. "But... but you're... going to... but you're going to be in New York..." She trails off, seeing Shaw's smirk. " _Shaw!_ You gave two weeks' notice?! You _resigned?_  And you want to go to Massachusetts with me?" Root breathes, barely able to believe what she's hearing. "But... there's no... I don't know, Shaw. Will you have a possible future there? I mean, I have a future there, at MIT, but I don't know if it's fair to make you come along with me, and is it a good idea? I mean, will you be able to find work?" Root knows she's babbling, but she's so taken aback, she can't help herself. Shaw's eyes are shining when she kisses Root, effectively stopping her from talking. Her lips are mere inches away from Root's own when she cups Root's face in her hands, smiling. "Nobody is  _making_ me go to Massachusetts. I  _want_ to. I want to be there for you. With you." She tucks a lock of hair behind Root's ear, one thumb brushing against the edge of Root's lips. "I don't need to worry about not finding a future in Massachusetts, Root. _You_ are my future." 

There are a hundred emotions coursing through Root's veins when she embraces Shaw, enveloping her in a huge hug that nearly sends her flying. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Shaw holds her tight, and Root settles against the curve of her body, feeling content, surprised,  _happy._ Everything has changed in one year, in ways she never predicted, and it is  _wonderful._ This is everything she could ask for. This is everything she wants. 

 

 

"I see you're leaving," Root's boss says, looking unimpressed as she reverently hangs her apron back on the hook for the very last time. "Heading off to college, like all of them do."

"Too right, sir," Root answers, a grin on her face. "Don't miss me too much."

He snorts. "Now I'll have to find some other unfortunate to take over your graveyard shift. More work for me, it seems."

Root laughs. Loudly. "About that..." She winks. "Best decision I ever made. I have to thank you for that." He opens his mouth as if to ask a question; Root runs to the door. "Sorry, can't stop! I have an afternoon flight to catch." 

She doesn't look back. 

 

 

Shaw meets her directly at the airport, with all their luggage. Her eyes light up when she sees Root, dragging their suitcases over. "Check-in just opened. Shall we?" The corner of her mouth quirks up just the slightest. "Are you ready?"

Root takes a deep breath, looks out of the door at New York, at everything she's leaving behind, and then looks back at Shaw with a smile. 

"I'm ready." 

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i'm taking total liberties with the way the education system in this fic is structured, because i don't know in the least how the american education system functions + wrote this before i really grasped the shoot dynamic so it seems rather ooc now, but i hope you still enjoy it.


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